


The Beauty Of A Secret

by WinterAssets



Series: Badlands Inspired Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Mild Smut, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterAssets/pseuds/WinterAssets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dean though, Dean was a treat that you could praise Crowley for. The fact that he was openly inviting a Knight of Hell back into the pit, the fact that he had allowed Dean to keep the First Blade... it was all entirely too good to be true. Hell had began buzzing the moment Dean opened his pretty black eyes, and all were taking bets on how battered his soul would be. He had been to hell before and had sent so many souls back, but this was different. He hadn't had power then; he was just Michael's sword and a jump box for Armageddon. Now he held power, and there was a fraction of you that wished and longed for him to take the throne from Crowley. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Dean is still coming into being a demon and having a blast, and meets a demon reader who sold her soul a while ago. She sees him as a rise to power. Turns out they're both double crossing lovers with a blade that will kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beauty Of A Secret

Maybe you had always had this streak for looking for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. It was hidden away in your DNA as your eyes moved through the bar, no longer interested in the man beside you who quickly took the hint. You had done this same drill hundreds of times before; they weren’t worth your time and you got over them quick. They got over you quick too, and it was a perfect indicator to you that they were there only to waste your time. They were the ones drinking lower class beers while you were drinking Whiskey, needing a drunk adrenaline rush that only it could give you.

That was until you found the ultimate rush; the man with green eyes who would flicker back and who eagerly bought you Whiskey whenever you indicated that your glass was empty. He wasn’t like the other demons in the bar in the least – they were all crawling, low lifes who had picked the wrong meatsuit to parade around in. His was in pristine condition, and it was evident from the way he walked in and commanded the room that he was of higher power – something much higher than any of the others. It sent a rush of excitement down your spine, a thrill onto your painted lips as his fingers ran themselves up your arm.

You knew who he was; everyone in a ten mile radius knew who Dean Winchester was, especially when he walked in with the King of Hell himself. You had never given much thought to Crowley – he was a firm ruler, but he had too much of a heart to run things. You personally longed for the days when Lucifer had gladly reigned as king of the throne, way back when Crowley had just been a measly henchman who sold souls at the crossroads. It was disgusting really how the times had fallen, but he did bring the promise of the Knights of Hell – something that the pit had been desperately missing from the moment that Cain had slayed them all.

You weren’t one of the demons that had been around past the test of time, nor did you get there by selling your soul for something small. You had sold your soul at the time to save your boyfriend, and had gladly taken the ten year deal. That had been back in 2000, and you had kept up with the things going on in hell. Where most ran from the danger that they were going to be getting themselves in, you eagerly pushed forward into it. You made friends, you made enemies, and by the time you were dragged down to hell kicking and screaming in 2010, you knew more about hell than most of the current demons did. Though, you lacked the friendship that you missed the most, and it was one that you had wanted to tear Crowley apart for.

You missed the company of Meg, of her charms, and the way that she would gladly show you everything that you needed to know. Ruby had helped out too, but she had gotten involved with Sam Winchester while you had watched from a distance, curious about what was happening and wanting to stay as far away as possible at the same time. It was all intriguing but you knew you couldn’t make yourself too obvious; the last thing you needed was to be locked away because you weren’t up to the sanity par when you knew what was really going on. The thought of spending time in an asylum wasn’t the top thing you had wanted to do, so you kept it all swept under the rug for until you were alone.

Dean though, Dean was a treat that you could praise Crowley for. The fact that he was openly inviting a Knight of Hell back into the pit, the fact that he had allowed Dean to keep the First Blade… it was all entirely too good to be true. Hell had began buzzing the moment Dean opened his pretty black eyes, and all were taking bets on how battered his soul would be. He had been to hell before and had sent so many souls back, but this was different. He hadn’t had power then; he was just Michael’s sword and a jump box for Armageddon. Now he held power, and there was a fraction of you that wished and longed for him to take the throne from Crowley.

The moment that happened, you were convinced that hell would finally find its order.

Dean’s hand came up and cupped your jaw, and then his lips were pressing firmly to yours. You had done this so many times before that your lips just moved with his, a hum in the back of your throat as you eagerly opened your mouth to him. His tongue moved against yours, a dance that had both of you moaning in the booth as he worked you over. He was a gift when it came to kissing, and often times you wondered just how he had wound up in such a position of power. Then it became clear; he was passionate and didn’t give up, and the way that his fingers dug into your bare thigh underneath the table was undeniable proof of that.

You moaned low in your throat, your own nails dragging up his arm carefully as he kissed you harder, feeling as if he were devouring the soul that you no longer possessed. He was loud, he was messy, but he was commanding when his tongue easily searched your mouth, finding and pressing against the spots that had you shivering and digging your nails in harder. He was a sucker for an ounce of pain, and demons like that were a dime a dozen. But there was something different in the way that Dean’s mind worked, and half of you wanted him to take you right there in the seat. Dean wouldn’t have been opposed to it and you knew he wouldn’t have been; he had proved that before.

But Dean was your own little secret, and you’d be damned if you let that black eyed beauty out of your sight and for some other demon to take over.

You grabbed his hand, a smirk on your lips as you pulled him up from the booth. His grin met yours as his eyes flashed black for a moment, and then you were leading him across the bar with a hum on your lips. You were used to the looks by now, and you refused to even look at them as you hummed even louder to yourself; it was a way to block them out, to stay focused on your task.

Shutting the bathroom door behind Dean, it wasn’t long before his strong hands lifted you up and set you on the sink. His searing lips met yours and you eagerly moved into it, grabbing his collar and placing your lips more firmly against his. A whimper ran up your lips but you held it down in your throat as Dean’s hands ran up your thighs. Your dress rested a third of the way down your thigh, and a wide grin settled onto your face at the motions. It was enough to have your body arching as his nails duginto your skin, knowing there’d be indents later to look back on. Your own hands cupped his neck, digging your nails into the back of it as he let out a moan, his lips breaking from yours in order to do so.

His fingers ran up further, pushing your dress away as he moved them closer to your hips. He felt the lace of your panties, a soft whine slipping from his lips as they moved to your jaw. You tipped your head backwards, giving him some more room as you let your nails move through his hair. His fingers were digging faster and harder into your hips, a sharp breath leaving your lips as his teeth bit down hard right where your pulse point was. “Dean…”

It was a low murmur, one that came with the promise of something so much better to come. A smile slipped onto his features as a soft growl erupted from his lips, his fingers hooking into the lacy straps and tugging them down your legs. You easily lifted them, allowing him to slip them down over the black heels that you wore. Dean chuckled the panties to the side, his fingers hitching your dress up as you quickly unzippd his pants, biting down on your lip in anticipation.

Him pushing into you felt like the closest to heaven that you were ever going to get. Your neck arched and you let out a soft gasp, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate his cock. Dean’s thumbs rubbed harsh circles into the skin of your thighs, your lips meeting harshly once more. He moaned into your mouth as he began to move, his hips thrusting and grinding against yours in a rhythm that had your mind losing track of time. He would grind at every thrust in, brushing against your clit and giving you the pleasure you so desperately needed, but at the same time not enough to even remotely be what you needed. You would protest and drag your nails down his back through his shirt, and he would merely moan your name like it was the only thing he knew.

Your hands fought for purchase and you quickly grabbed at the mirror behind you, your fingers curling over the cool glass as Dean went faster and deeper, his lips clashing with yours in a rhythm that was all teeth and tongue. It had your breath hitching in your chest and his hips hitching upwards even more, hitting the spot in you that he knew would make you cry his name out. And you did, not caring who heard or if they were going to report it. Gossip in hell got around, and it was something that you just didn’t care about. Nothing existed outside of the Knight burying himself deep in you.

His teeth latched onto your bottom lip, tugging it harshly before it fell back into place, a loud, open mouthed moan falling from his lips as you felt him growing closer to his climax. Dean was always louder and more deliberate when he was getting close, and you found your own hands moving to his shoulders and your fingers digging in. Your stomach was tightening as he kissed you again, biting and sucking at your lip until it was red and swollen as you let out a whimper. You could feel yourself tightening around him as he throbbed in you, and then you were falling over the edge, crying out his name and smacking the mirror with your hand, barely containing your strength as your back arched.

Dean was coming soon after you, his lips pressing hard into yours to swallow down his own moans as his hips moved eagerly and unevenly into yours. You pulled in a sharp breath through your nose, running your fingers through his hair as you felt his warmth seep into you, your eyes fluttering as a grin slipped onto his features and his eyes slipped black once more.

* * *

 

You hadn’t expected to get attached; Dean was a pet to you and nothing else. He was the key to hell and there was nothing wrong with getting in the good books with the one who was going to eventually be a ruler. Especially after he had shoved Crowley to the ground, all of you demons could sense the power change. Even if it wasn’t right away, you knew that something that changed – the mighty had fallen, and you were all running around like rats, desperate to find a side and a loving place to call home with a master.

But then Dean disappeared.

He went out with Crowley and then went out on his own, and then he just never came back. Hell was confused; where had their Knight gone? You hadn’t expected to care so much; you were nothing to Dean and Dean was nothing to you. But some part of you felt the deep hurt of betrayal as you bit down on your lip. Your back rested against the warm bricks of Crowley’s kingdom, your eyes glancing around for any signs. There was only one way that you knew of into hell, and Dean hadn’t come back through it. In fact, the only ones who were coming through it were the souls of demons.

Of course, there were the demons that left and didn’t come back either.

An annoying witch had made her way into Crowley’s life and hell was a joke; the only hopes you had were to get the Knight and rightful ruler back. You wouldn’t stand by and watch your home as it was torn to shreds. You doubted that Crowley even knew what had been going on. It was all a thick fog of confusion and pent up childhood, and you weren’t going to stand for it anymore. You had walked out and not come back, either.

You found Dean sitting against his Impala, somewhere near Lawrence, Kansas. You should have expected it, really. The bunker wasn’t too far away from there and it made your stomach nervous. This could’ve been too easy; this could’ve been a trap. His brother and the angel could be waiting to jump out and shove Ruby’s knife through you; a weapon that you had desperately wanted to get back. You couldn’t believe that she had allowed it to fall into the hands of the Winchesters.

Your heavy boots sounded against the ground and Dean’s eyes glanced up, recognition slipping across his features before his emerald eyes hardened. He pushed off of the Impala and stared at you, his arms crossing against his chest. You could sense that the First Blade was near, and by the way his hand was shaking, you were guessing he was just itching for a reason to use it. It made your eyebrows furrow slightly – had he not been up here killing with it and satisfying his mark?

“Where’d you go, Winchester? We were having fun,” a small smirk was settled on your features, one that you hoped screamed more confidence than you felt in that moment. Dean stiffened more, his eyes running over your body before he shook his head.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he stated simply, but there was something different. There wasn’t the familiar growl in his voice, the familiar scenting of a demon of power. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably and you stared at him, your own eyes hardening.

“You’re not a Knight anymore.” It was a simple statement, but you watched as Dean swallowed hard. Part of him was fighting itself, and you knew that. Shaking your head, you barked out a laugh. “You’re nothing more than a lapdog of Crowley’s. I should’ve known.”

“We can help you, you know.” Dean was trying to distract the conversation and your eyes hardened, slipping to black and allowing your true form to show through.

“Help me? Fix me? That’s funny, you didn’t think I was broken when you were fucking me in hell.” Your own arms crossed against your chest and you could feel yourself itching for a fight. The anger was rising up in you; you had left hell for this. You had come to find a Knight, only to find a pathetic shell of one who had given into humanity yet again. You had had higher hopes for him.

Stepping forward, you ran your hand down Dean’s cheek, cupping his jaw. “You could’ve been so good, Dean Winchester. You were the promised one; you could’ve ruled hell. You could’ve brought us all the salvation we’ve been looking for. We were so lost, you could have guided us.”

Dean closed his eyes, allowing himself to lean into the touch for a moment. It felt familiar to you, even warm and comforting, and your guard fell down slightly. It was entirely too close to home, and you found yourself sucking in a deep breath, allowing his scent to surround you even as the scent of his brother and angel mixed within it. You should’ve known that they were the reason he didn’t return.

His head dipped down, capturing your lips as you let out a noise into his mouth. Your fingers slowly fell from his cheek as you allowed yourself to give into it. The hot press of his tongue against yours had your stomach twisting, a smile slipping onto the edge of your lips as you stepped closer to him. His fingers ran along your waist for a moment and a small smile slipped onto his lips right back.

But then you felt nothing but pain and you let out a shout, your eyes snapping open to stare at his gleaming eyes. Yours slowly moved down, staring at the First Blade that had been planted firmly in your chest. You swallowed hard, feeling the molten hot lava slipping through your skin as your mouth gaped, trying to find purchase on words as you stared at the unapologetic emeralds before you.

“That was always your problem,” he whispered, a small smile slipping onto his features. “You were always too cocky, always trying to figure out how to get to the top of hell. This was never about me, this was about you.”

With a swift movement, you let out a howl of pain as your entire body glowed and flickered orange, and then you collapsed to the ground.

Dean stood there, staring at you for a moment before he shook his head and turned his body back towards the Impala. Demons like you were all the same; they weren’t kind for their own doing. They were looking out for their own backs, trying to figure out how to conquer hell and make it to the top.

But if Dean had it his way, the gates would be closed soon. There wouldn’t be any more heaven or hell, and there wouldn’t be anymore compromising positions for something as simple as power. It was fickle really when it came down to it, and a small chuckle left his lips as he shut the door to the Impala.

His fingers ran over the edge of the blade before he tossed it onto the seat next to him, shaking his head to himself.

There was no room for you here or in hell; he locked demons like you away, made sure you couldn’t manipulate anymore. That was his job – he was a hunter, not a Knight, not a ruler. He was the person who did the right thing.

Even if it left a dull ache in his chest for what he had to do.


End file.
